


Hallows

by Lynds



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Albus and Gellert do not have a healthy relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angry Modesty Barebone, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Jamie Campbell-Bower as Grindelwald, Jude Law as Dumbledore, M/M, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Minor Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Minor Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander, Misunderstandings, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Protective Credence Barebone, e-fucking-ventually, only explicit chapter is the last one, the rest is pretty T rated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Dramatic life events seem to happen to Credence Barebone on Halloween. But having to deal with his psychotic ex-mother yet again just seems like cruel and unusual punishment. Luckily he's got his own personal celebrity crush there for backup.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts).



> This is a lot angstier than my flippant summary might suggest...
> 
> I would love to attach writingramblr's gorgeous photoset prompt here, but I am a numpty and have no idea how to...and the link I DID have to it is now not working so I will try and learn...
> 
> Also please let me know if I've used any British-isms from my American characters!

Credence had mixed feelings about Halloween. The candy, the costumes, even tang in the air that smacked of devilry and hedonism made his hands twitch and the skin on his back crawl. _Surely,_ he thought somewhere back in his hindbrain as he drew the paintbrush across his face, _Mary Lou will walk in and blow a blood vessel to see the sin you’re plastering all over your face._

The door behind him clicked, and he jumped, sending a streak of green shooting across his cheekbone.

“Are you ready, Cr—oh, sorry.”

Credence sighed and wrested control over his thundering heart. “It’s OK, Albus." He smiled in the mirror. “Cool sugar skull.”

“Thanks,” he said, dimples popping under the white face paint. “You want some help with yours?”

Credence handed him the brush and sat back while Albus pulled a pair of half-moon glasses out of a pocket and leaned forwards to wipe the smudge of green away. He frowned slightly and gripped his jaw as he completed a dotted ring around his eye to match the one Credence had already managed. Albus’ painting was cute and random, a treble clef on his forehead, sunflowers blooming at his hairline, but it wasn’t as colourful as Credence’s. He’d had enough of the dark.

“There you are.” The soft-spoken man sat back with a smile. “Perfect, if I do say so myself.”

He nodded at his reflection and Albus clicked a photo with Credence’s own mini-SLR. “Thought we should have at least one picture of the photographer.” He hummed at the little playback screen. “You should send this one to Percival,” he said, with a sly, sideways look.

“And why would I do that?” Credence asked, grabbing the camera out of Albus' hands. He was pleased he’d managed to keep his voice steady, and that the white face paint covered any trace of a blush. He grimaced at the photo. His hair was messy, and one skinny collarbone was slipping out of the shirt he’d borrowed from Albus.

“Don’t you delete that.” Albus tilted his chin up, his English accent making him sound imperious. “It's my property.”

Credence rolled his eyes and turned the camera off, following the drummer to Gellert’s penthouse suite. Music and heat hit him like a physical blow when the door opened. The room heaved with bodies dressed in the Dia de los Muertos theme, skeletons and sugar skulls and lace everywhere. Someone had rounded up all the pretty men and women from the gig, and the acid tang of excitement verging on panic oozed off them. Without this job and the desensitisation of four months of touring with The Deathly Hallows, Credence could so easily have been one of them.

Even with his face paint a couple of people recognised Albus, and a flutter ran through the crowd ahead of them. Albus ignored it with his usual serene smile and led the way to a leather couch pressed against a plate glass window, the lights of New York twinkling behind.

Percival moved along to sit on the arm of the couch as they came closer, and Credence’s belly swirled hot when he saw those warm brown eyes crinkle in greeting. He dared to take the place Percival had just left free, leather still warm from his body. Albus curled up on the other side against Gellert, who coughed out a smoke-filled laugh around his cigarette. “I can’t believe you idiots all made such an effort with the costumes. That’s for the punters, not for us.” He traced one long finger over Albus’ sunflower. “Love the way you’re showing off your receding hairline, babe,” he purred. “It’s always good to have a sense of humour about your flaws.”

Albus’ ears pinked and he put one hand up to his widow’s peak reflexively, his smile dimming slightly. 

“Credence, on the other hand…if I lick that sugar skull of yours I think you might just taste as sweet as you look.” He ran the back of a knuckle along Credence’s cheekbone, and his shoulders hunched reflexively. He should be used to Gellert by now. Everyone always said, that was just his way, but Credence couldn’t bring himself to laugh it off, not when it made the light in Albus’ bright blue eyes go dim, or when Percival’s fists clenched reflexively. 

“Leave the boy alone,” said Albus. “I don’t think—“

“No, you never do,” smirked Gellert. “You know what they say about drummers.” He laughed as Albus looked down, and wrapped his arm tighter around his shoulders. “You know I’m only joking, baby. Cheer up. It's Halloween, the eye candy is out in full force, and we’ve only got two weeks left of touring before we can ditch this country for an island in the South Pacific.” He licked the curve of Albus’ ear, and Credence averted his gaze quickly, embarrassed by the spike of arousal he felt on hearing his friend's shuddering breath.

“What a drink, kid?" Percival’s big hand landed hot on his shoulder and didn’t much help the warmth curling in his belly. He nodded, trying not to lean into the contact, and followed him through the writhing crowd to the drinks table in the lounge. He let himself indulge as he walked, running his eyes up the length of Percival’s body, up his black jeans, the tight button down shirt, the white flecks in the cropped black hair at the back of his head. He turned just then and caught Credence looking, his lip quirking, and Credence made himself hold his gaze with a polite return smile rather than blushing and turning away. His eyelashes fluttered as he battled with his reflexes, but he held his head high.

Percival held out a vodka and coke, and Credence’s smile grew more genuine. Percival Graves knew what he liked to drink. He closed his eyes to enjoy the cold drink running through him, and when he looked back Percival’s eyes were boring into him, his own glass hovering just before his parted lips. He cleared his throat when Credence blinked at him. “Your, uh. Your hair looks different away from your face like that. I mean…obviously.” He frowned and gulped his drink.

“It feels weird,” Credence admitted. “I didn’t realise how much peripheral vision I was missing out on.”

Percival chuckled. “Yeah, you do hide behind the curtains a bit.”

“Do I?” He frowned. He had thought he was getting better.

“Not all the time,” Percival hurried to assure him. “Only when you’re embarrassed.”

Credence looked down, feeling his face heat, and was viscerally aware of the lack of curls to fall around his cheeks and cut him off. Now Percival could see his smile. He probably wondered what the hell he was grinning about, it wasn’t like it was a compliment. Just, the thought that Percival had been watching him, noticing -

No. Don’t be stupid. He turned his smile into a more formal thing and looked back up at the beautiful face. Even thick white paint couldn’t hide the slim cupids’ bow of his upper lip, the strong lines of his face.His sugar skull was one of the simplest, and all the more effective for it, little black designs marking his lips, his high forehead. Credence had a vivid image of the mess they would make of each other if they kissed.

“There they are.” A wiry arm landed on his shoulder and he jumped, to Gellert’s delight. “Twitchy little thing, aren’t you?” he hummed in Credence’s ear, and Credence wondered if he was imagining the way Percival’s hand tightened on his glass, the lowering of his brow.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Credence?” asked Gellert. “See anything you like?” He gestured to the room and Credence saw men and women in the crowd look up at them, eyes hooded in invitation.

“Look at them,” Gellert sighed, his nose brushing the hinge of Credence’s jaw. “They’re probably more your age than ours. Probably younger.” He pulled him even closer, so he was pressed against his shoulder, and lifted his arm away from Albus’ neck to point at a pretty young woman. Her short top rose as she danced to expose a concave length of warm brown skin. “I bet she’s only just eighteen. I think she’d look exquisite writhing under you, tipping her head back, just like she’s doing now, when you fuck into her. Hmm?”

Credence cleared his throat. “I…I don’t know about that, sir.” _Sir?_ Where the fuck had that come from? He felt suddenly catapulted right back into his sixteen year old self. He cleared his throat again as Gellert laughed, head thrown back and long blonde hair tickling Credences’ ear.

“Sir? I’m not her father, Scamander. Go on.” He gave him a shove. “Go get your dick wet. I promise not to watch. Much.”

“I…I’m not…” He gritted his teeth and made himself straighten up. He was not ashamed. “I’m gay, actually.”

Gellert grinned, shark like, and his bright blue eyes glinted. “Well, now, you’ve kept that quiet. Think of all the fun we could have been having.”

“Gellert,” Albus started, but he didn’t even have to acknowledge him for Albus to trail off, defeated.

“How old are you, Credence?”

“Twenty two.”

Gellert hummed, looking him up and down. “When you were eighteen did you have a poster of us on your wall? It was only four years ago, would have been, what? Around the time The Elder Wand came out?”

Credence looked down but couldn’t help the self-deprecating smile as he nodded.

He whooped cupped Credence’s face in both hands. “You did? I love this. Which poster was it, go on?”

Credence rolled his eyes. “The scrapyard,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah. Very…tame.” He shrugged, then smirked and tipped Credence’s head up. “It was by your bed, wasn’t it?” he crooned. “Which one of us did you look at when you had your hand wrapped around your own cock, Credence?”

Credence tried, he really did. But his eyes betrayed him, flickering to Percival without his permission as Gellert’s smooth voice drew out the memories. He refocused on the lead singer’s face as fast as possible, praying to a God he’d long turned his back on that nobody had noticed.

No luck. Something, something dark and sharp passed across his narrowing eyes, chased away by a wicked smirk. “The bassist?” he grinned. “How…alternative of you.”

Credence didn’t know where the conversation would have gone because his phone shrieked in his pocket, making him jump violently. Even Gellert twitched back, releasing his face. Credence pulled the mobile out with shaking fingers and answered it, not caring that he didn’t recognise the number if it gave him an excuse to escape to the hotel corridor. The music thumped at his back as he leaned on the wall. “Hello?”

“Credence?”

He frowned and jammed a finger in one ear. “Chastity, is that you?”

“Oh, thank God,” she gasped. “I didn’t know if you’d still be using the same number, I—"

“Are you OK?” he asked sharply, worry spiking as she babbled on the other end. “Chas, where are you?”

“It’s not me, I’m fine,” she said. “I'm at my flat but…I saw them. Ma and Modesty and…I’m scared, Cree.”

“What happened? Do you need me to come over?”

There was a strange crackling on the line. Her hair moving against the mic as she shook her head, he guessed. “No, it's just…she was wearing a halloween costume…”

“Who? Ma?”

“No! Moddy. She…she had little devil horns on and I saw Ma grab her and pull them off, and then she was dragging her across the street, all her friends calling her and everything and…I know she’s only got four more years before she can get out legally, but I'm so worried, she was always more feisty than us. Cree, what if Ma really hurts her? Like, more than you? What if Modesty tries to stand up to her?”

Chastity’s voice was hard to make out it was shaking so hard, and she trailed off into sniffles and gulping sobs. Credence’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll go get her,” he said.

“Oh, God, you can’t, Credence,” she gasped. “She’ll kill you for sure, and even if she doesn’t she’ll call the police on you for kidnapping and—“

“It’ll be fine, Chastity,” he said, steel slithering into his veins like smoke. “She doesn’t scare me any more.”

His trembling hands showed that for the lie it was, but this wasn’t the time. He’d been free for six years, he should have gone back long ago for his sisters. He’d been a coward. He should never have listened when Chastity told him they could wait it out, they could handle her til they were sixteen and legally free. After all, Credence had been the scapegoat, she’d never laid a hand on the girls.

But with Credence gone, who had filled that gap in Mary-Lou Barebone’s life? Who satisfied that part of her that needed to punish? Credence had believed his sisters because he had wanted to, so badly, he’d wanted to stretch out and grow into his skin, and he’d let them take his place.

“Credence?” Percival’s voice made him jump, adrenaline sending tremors into every muscle. “Are you OK?”

Funny how a skeleton could look so warm. Percival’s brown eyes radiated concern and Credence leaned towards him, a plant soaking up the sun. “I have to go. My sister’s in trouble.”

Percival nodded. “Right. Come on then.”

“…what?”

“You don’t have a car, do you? I do, and I haven’t had any booze either. What’s the address?”

“You don’t have to,” he protested, trotting along to the elevator in Percival’s wake.

“No, of course I don’t have to,” he snorted. “But what sort of person would I be if I didn’t help?”

***

Credence directed Percival through the city streets to his old home on autopilot, a fierce determination settling in his bones. But then he was standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the dingy block of flats he’d grown up in, fists clenching and unclenching, and he found he couldn’t move. 

Percival's arm on him made him flinch violently, but he rubbed his bicep firmly with a thumb, and Credence could feel the man’s strength soaking into him, giving his muscles the impetus to walk to the front door. 

The intercom was still broken, and they got in with just a firm shove. Credence took a deep breath and pulled ahead, leading Percival up the steps. The buckles on his boots chinked as he ascended flight after flight, not allowing himself to doubt that Modesty needed him. Because if he second guessed his instincts, he might turn away, and he had to know.

They heard the shouting the moment he pushed the fire door open from the stairwell onto the eighth floor. “Little witch! How dare you defy me like that, I am your mother. I’ve given you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

There was a slapping sound that made Credence cringe and rage all at once, and he raced to the door, barely aware of Percival following behind.

“I hate you,” screamed Modesty, her voice wet with tears. “You’re an evil old hag.” There was another slap and a shriek that made Credence’s blood burn with terror. “You can do what you like to me, I’m not scared,” yelled his brave, stupid little sister.

“You’ve accepted the devil,” Mary Lou said, her voice suddenly cold and calm, though still breathless with exertion and maybe something else. Credence hammered and kicked the door. “Satan is winning the battle for your soul, but I’ll cast him out. I’ll save you.”

“What are you—“ Modesty’s voice was threadlike with panic and Credence tore at his hair. Before he could think, Percival kicked out beside him, and with a splintering sound the door jamb peeled apart around the lock.Credence and Percival raced in, straight to Modesty’s side. She stood hunched behind the kitchen counter, her lower arms and cheeks marked with lashes that Credence knew well from experience. Percival took her by the shoulders while Credence stood between them and his erstwhile mother. She held a pan in one hand, empty and clean, the base discoloured from the flame that still burned uncovered on the hob.

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you break into my home?”

"I'm taking Modesty, Ma,” he said. The fear was trying to hurl itself through his body, vomit bravery and recklessness all over the clean kitchen lino and bow his head to her will again. Stand in front of his sisters the only way he’d ever been able to, but this time he swallowed it down.

“Satan,” she hissed, breathing pure hatred. He recognised it so well. “See what you’ve brought upon yourself, child," she said to Modesty. “Two demons sent to drag you straight to hell. Come here, choose the light and we’ll cast them out together.”

Credence didn’t turn away from danger, but he heard Modesty shake her head. “I’m going with them.” Her voice trembled. “Hell can’t be worse than life with you.”

“I should have sacrificed you to the lord when you were still pure,” she spat at Credence, and he felt himself flinching like a teenager. “I knew you were wrong when I first laid eyes on you, bringing nothing but pain. Now you corrupt your sisters, lead them into your pit of depravity. I should have helped the lord take you years ago, for now you swell the ranks of the fallen. Deviant, aberrant, foul thing.”

“Credence,” said Percival, his firm voice cutting through the fog building around himself with every one of his mother’s words. “Let’s go, Modesty needs a doctor.”

“You will not win this battle, Satan! I’ll have the police on you, two deviants stealing a child away from her mother. Modesty, you fight the devil! I will get you back, and we’ll exorcise the demon from under your skin and come unto the lord—“

Percival grabbed Credence by the scruff of his neck and dragged him and Modesty out. He wasn’t sure who was shaking more, himself or his sister.

“Is it really you, Cree?”

He’d forgotten the skull makeup on his face. That probably hadn't helped matters. He glimpsed his own reflection as they stumbled from the building. The colours had run with sweat, smudged and indistinct on his forehead and mouth where he’d rubbed in his worry. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you OK, kid?" asked Percival, hustling them both to his car. “I’m taking you to hospital right now.”

“Oh no, there’s no—“

“Yeah, there is. Your mom’s going to get the cops involved, so we need as much evidence on our side as possible.”

“Where am I going to go then?” she asked, almost of herself.

“Home with me,” said Credence immediately. “I should have come for you years ago.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for past child abuse, questions of maybe-not-entirely-full/enthusiastic consent (there's absolutely no dub-con/non-con though) and Gellert being an arsehole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this hasn't been picked over for Americanisms (what IS the opposite to Brit-Picking?) so please excuse me if I say arse or sofa etc lol! I've tried to write in their voices, and to look for any mistakes in editing, but I might have missed some!

Credence leaned on the sink, his head hanging between his shoulders. Hallow-fucking-een. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had an uneventful one, and creeping insecurity wondered if there was something to his mother’s insane rantings about the devil and witches abroad on the eve of All Saints day.

He snorted to himself and bent to wash the sugar skull off his face, running wet fingers through his gelled-back curls to loosen them up a bit. The apartment was quiet except for Percival moving around the little kitchen area. He smiled when Credence wandered in from the bathroom and handed him a cup of tea. He’d washed his own face paint off at the hospital so he could look more professional talking to the cops and doctors. No-one had recognised him, the advantage of not being the band's frontman.

“Modesty seems to have settled OK.” He sat on the couch next to Credence, his black jeans pulling tight over defined thigh muscles. “How are you doing?”

Credence made himself laugh. “Oh, I’m peachy. I just stood up to the woman who made the first sixteen years of my life hell, and realised I’m the most selfish brother in existence. Shiny.”

“Hey,” said Percival. “It’s OK. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to but if you think it’ll help I’m here to listen.”

He stared into the middle distance, the muscles in his jaw twitching. Of course he was OK. He wasn’t the one with bruises and red marks, well, not this time. He wasn’t the one who’d come come within seconds of having a hot saucepan pressed against his skin. She’d have done it on Modesty’s arm, on the inside because Moddy would have struggled. She’d have needed to hold her wrist. 

Mod was a fighter. Not like Credence who’d stood still and _let_ her lash his back with his own belt. Of course Credence was OK, he was a coward, and cowards stay out of danger. They run away from the people who need them, to save their own skin.

He flinched at a gentle touch on his back, and spilled tea all over his hands and the carpet. “Sorry,” Percival murmured, taking the cup from him and putting it on the table. “Can I give you a hug?”

Credence realised his hands were shaking, his vision blurring with tears. Why was Percival indulging him like this, why hadn’t he left already? He felt himself curling in like an armadillo, like a child expecting blows, and the adult self inside his head, who was growing smaller and smaller, was observing him with detached interest. _Tina always said we regress when we’re emotional_ , said tiny Adult Credence. Credence just put his head to his knees, his hand in his hair, and rocked, and cried.

Percival put his hand on his back, his words distressed but making no sense. The warm pressure felt so good but not enough, and Credence leaned into his touch. Percival lifted him, one arm under his legs, so he was sitting across his lap and sobbing into the cradle of his arms.

“I left them with her,” he whispered a long time later when he’d cried himself dry. “I was the oldest, I should have been there.”

Percival sighed and shifted on the couch, but pulled him close rather than trying to get away. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” he said. “Or nearly sixteen. I left on Halloween too, actually.”

Percival made an enquiring hum and Credence shifted and sat back against the other arm of the couch, already regretting the loss of the strong chest beneath his head and the fingers carding through his hair. 

“So I’ve got two younger sisters,” he explained, sniffing and wiping his face, trying to look normal. “Chastity’s two years younger than me, she’s always been the good girl. Modesty’s eight years younger than me, and man, is she different.” He smiled. “You saw her tonight, she’s always been so brave.”

Percival snorted. “To the point of recklessness.” 

“Yeah,” Credence grinned, looking down at the remains of his cold tea. “But I was the scapegoat, so Modesty was usually safe. I think part of me knew that was gonna change when I left, but…” He trailed off, ashamed.

“Why?” asked Percival, frowning. “I mean, why you? Not that it should have been anyone else, I just—“

“It’s OK,” he said. “I don’t know, though, if it was because I’m the oldest or because I’m the only boy. But I think she suspected I was gay from a pretty early age. Been trying to beat it out of me ever since.” He smirked. “I can still quote you great swathes of Leviticus and Deutronomy from my early teens, so really, I think she knew even before I did.”

Percival didn't smile back. His forehead was crinkled with such concern Credence had to clear his throat and return to his inspection of the tea, ashamed for upsetting him with his darkness.

“What happened next?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, just before my sixteenth birthday a kid in my class paid me to help with his homework. Which was pretty nice of him, actually. They usually just took my books to copy. But I figured I’d use the money to treat Modesty. She’d been drooling at all the Halloween stuff in the store. I bought her a packet of Candy Corn on my way home from school, it had a cute little cartoon of a witch on it.” He laughed and shook his head. “So stupid, really. Ma found it before I could sneak it to Moddy, and she went fucking nuts.”

“What did she do, Credence?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Percival didn’t sound sympathetic, like most of the other people he’d told, he just sounded pissed. Usually Credence brushed it off. The damp eyed pity was cringeworthy. But there was a possessive, protective edge in Percival’s voice that he wanted to bask in. It reminded him of Tina a little, but with _extra._

Slowly he pulled his t-shirt off and turned, baring his back. It was a surrender, an act of trust, and if he was honest with himself, a test. Here are my broken edges. Are you prepared to get any closer? Because now’s as good a time as any to discard this crush that’s been growing out of control.

He jumped slightly to feel Percival’s fingers tracing one of the scars. He didn’t see much of his own back, of course, but as the gentle touch mapped every one of the discoloured lash marks he could visualise them laid out shiny between the healthy skin that goose fleshed and shuddered under the branding fingers.

And then lips, soft and damp, on his bare shoulder. Credence’s eyes fluttered shut and air escaped his lungs. He curled his back into the kisses that butterflied up his neck.

“I think you’re the brave one,” Percival whispered, his breath soft on Credence’s skin. “you went back in there knowing what you were up against, just to save your sister.”

“I should never have left,” he said, just as softly. “I could handle it, I should have stood between them.”

Percival shook his head. His hands were now wrapped around Credence’s hips, and it was like they bracketed all the heat and sensation in Credence’s body, leaving none left for his fuzzy mind. “It’s brave to look after yourself too,” he said. “Would you have been strong enough to get Modesty away from there if you’d stayed?”

Credence was quiet, and Percival wrapped his arms around his waist, warm body pressed close to his bare torso. “Is this OK?”

“More than.” He could barely force the words out.

They sat like that, wrapped together as the old clock ticked, and Credence closed his eyes, because if this was a dream he never wanted it to end.

“How did you get out of there?” Percival’s voice rumbled through him.

 _Get out? I don’t want to get out._ It took him a moment to remember what they’d been talking about. He cleared his throat. “There was a teacher, Mrs Scamander. Tina.” He smiled. “She’d noticed there was something wrong. She used to give me lifts, sometimes. She once took me back to her place for a proper meal when I fainted at school. She didn’t believe the school nurse when she said it was an eating disorder. So I knew where she lived by the time that Halloween happened. And when Ma put me out to sleep in the hallway as part of the punishment, after the beating, I…I just think it was the last straw, you know? I’d internalised everything else, all the 'beat the gay away' shit, but this was…stupid. Even I could tell it made no sense, and under the fear and the pain I was just pissed. So I walked to Tina’s.”

“What did she do?”

“She and her husband Newt took me in, fixed me up. She lost her job, you know? The school turned it into something nasty. She didn’t care, she refused to let me go back there, and a week later I was sixteen anyway. She and Newt, they’ve been amazing. They gave me an entire childhood in six years. Newt’s a photographer, you know, he’s the one who taught me. He usually does wildlife, pets sometimes - I started taking the human jobs that he hated.”

“I’m glad you did.”

His voice was low and spoken straight into Credence’s neck. Time seemed to stretch out and space contracted down to the two of them on the couch. Credence turned his head, felt Percival’s nose press to his cheek, and knew with absolute certainty that if he turned further, Percival would kiss him, and if he turned away, the embrace would remain just a comfort.

He turned and met his lips, just a brush that made the nerve endings there tingle uncontrollably so that he gasped, and pressed forwards again. Percival’s arms wrapped round his waist and pulled him round, kissing his top lip, his bottom lip, then tilting his head and fusing them together. As his mouth opened it took Credence’s lips too, and tongues tangled and caressed in the middle, scraping teeth and brushing oversensitive lips.

Credence had arm round Percival’s shoulder, the other hand cupping his cheek, fingers skritching the short hair of his undercut. He moaned as Percival trailed kisses down his neck, tipping his head back, because this was heaven, even though his blood burned like the fires of hell.

Percival ran his hand up Credence’s thigh, thumb digging in to his groin. He gasped but it was off centre, as if the tightrope he was walking along had wobbled. His hand stroking and digging in was swinging between utter perfection and too much, too soon. It dragged his brain back into his body, made him pause.

He moved his hand back, sensing his hesitation, and part of Credence, mostly the part Percival had been _so close_ to touching _finally_ , begged him to put it back. “Sorry,” Percival whispered into his neck. “We can just—”

“It’s OK,” Credence said. _Tell him_ , his body urged. _Tell him to put his hand back there, tell him he can have everything._ But there was still that little spark of fear that curled up in his belly, expecting to be ignored, overridden, and it felt like a much younger version of himself.

He pulled back from the kiss and bit his lip, looking away. _You’re being an idiot!_ screamed his body, and most of his mind. _This is Percival Graves, it’s what you’ve wanted since you knew wanting was allowed, and if you stop now he’s going to get bored and leave you here._

“Hey,” said Percival, putting a crooked finger under his chin and lifting. “Are you OK? Too much?”

“No!” Credence clutched his arms as if he could physically make him stay. “I want this! I want…I want you.”

Percival looked at him for such a long time, then smiled. “C’mere,” he said, and pulled him down on the couch, tucking his head on his shoulder. He ran his fingers through Credence’s hair over and over, teasing out the tangles until he was nudging into his touch. “You’re so beautiful, Credence,” he murmured, his voice vibrating on Credence’s jaw where it rested on his ribcage. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first moment I saw those lips of yours.”

“You never…”

Percival shrugged. “You’re young and sweet and so gorgeous it physically hurts. Why would you want an old man like me?” 

He chuckled like it wasn’t obvious, and Credence leaned up on his elbows to stare at him. “What are you talking about?” he demanded. “You’re… _you!_ And you’re not old.”

Percival smiled and kissed him, then lifted his hand from his chest and set about tracing every inch of it with his own fingers. Credence didn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated that those hands weren’t showing any signs of moving elsewhere, but Percival was so warm, and smelled so good…

***

The alarm went off way too early. Credence groaned into his pillow, which was hard and lumpy and quite frankly smelled amazing.

Oh.

His eyes snapped open as Percival scrambled in his pocket for his phone. “Hello.”

Fuck, his voice was deep and sleep-scratchy and Credence went from his usual half-mast morning wood to fully erect. That scared part of his brain from last night was waving its hand at him, saying _nope, I'm fine, be my guest,_ and Credence wrapped his arms tighter around Percival’s chest, pressing them together down the length of their bodies.

Percival groaned and hung up, kissing his curls. “Cree, I’ve got to go. Oh, Jesus, I don’t want to, I really, really don’t.” He slipped off the couch and kissed him, morning breath and all. “See you later?” he asked, pressing his nose to Credence’s temple.

“Yeah,” he breathed, a smile escaping the bubbling joy that seemed to be replacing his bloodstream. Then he remembered the rest of last night. “Shit. I don’t know. I’ve got to make sure Mod’s OK.”

“Oh, yeah.” Percival sighed and kissed his temple, his head, his lips, his eyes. “Call me if you need help fetching her stuff, OK?”

One last kiss, and he was gone. Credence lay back on the couch, closed his eyes, and smiled.

***

The break from reality kept him pushing through a day that could actually just go and fuck itself. Dealing with Modesty (angry at everything and edging on suspicious of him), his mother (screaming abuse at him through the front door while Modesty sobbed in his arms until the cops dragged her away), social services (pitying, patronising, certain he could barely look after himself, let alone a twelve year old). By the time evening fell he should have been dissolving into mist with the emotional onslaught. Instead he was lying on his back on the couch, immersing himself in memorise of Percival kissing him.

The phone rang, a picture of Albus showing up on the screen. “Are you OK?” Albus said, his voice warm and concerned. “Percival just said you had a family emergency.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “It’s been crazy, but we’re getting there. Percival was amazing.”

“He’s a good guy to have on your side.”

The couch smelled of him, wrapping him in happiness. “I kissed him,” he whispered, the words bubbling out without permission.

“Really?” Albus sounded delighted, and Credence could hear the smile through the connection. “Well, it’s about time. Is that all you did?”

“Albus!” he laughed, shocked at the wicked streak in his tone.

“Well, he came in grinning like the Cheshire Cat after spending the night with you, what sort of questions did you expect?”

Credence snorted, crinkling his eyes and nose up. “That’s all we did, I swear.” He stared at the ceiling. “Actually,” he admitted, “it nearly went further. I…I just panicked, I think.”

“Are you OK? He didn’t—“

“Oh, God, nothing like that. It wasn’t even…I don’t know what happened, I mean, I wanted…but I just - but he was so nice about it, he pulled back as soon as he noticed.”

“Good,” said Albus warmly. “I know he feels very strongly about you, Credence.”

He snorted, but Albus carried on. “No, he does. He doesn’t get close to many people, but I can tell he’s very fond of you.”

The glow he’d felt since that morning filled him up once more, pushing out the crap from the rest of the day. They chatted a little longer, and ended the call. Credence dropped the phone onto his chest and closed his eyes, a smile curling his lips.

He should have known, then. It should have been obvious, really, that such happiness couldn’t last. When he woke on the sofa a few hours later, he saw Gellert’s text.

>>Hear you and Percy got it on last night.<<

Credence frowned, but before he could reply, another message arrived.

>>Can’t have been very satisfying.<<

There was a picture attached. Percival in bed with his face scrunched up and a middle finger raised at the photographer.

Asleep on his shoulder was a red haired man, naked, and obviously well-fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry...you guys didn't think it was gonna be _easy_ did you? I'm incapable of writing non-angsty stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modesty's been living with Credence for a whole year. This Halloween, the Barebone siblings (or two Barebones and a Scamander, rather) try to sort a few things out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid there's no Percival in this chapter or the next one, just three traumatised young people. Trigger warning for the voices in your head being a little bitch?

Credence leant against the wall across the street from Modesty’s school, his collar turned up against the cold autumn wind. He heard the bell ring, and within moments teenagers were pouring out of the double doors and down the steps.

Modesty emerged with a couple of other girls, who hugged her before she crossed the road to him. “I told you, I can get home by myself just fine.”

Credence shrugged. “I got off work early.”

She glared at him, lips pursed small in her pale, pointed face, and stalked off ahead. “People are going to think you’re a pervert, hanging round a high school like this.”

“Or you could just tell them I’m your brother, since, you know, I am.”

He tried to take a deep breath subtly and keep his tone light. He didn’t want to snap and snarl at his traumatised sister. He remembered what it’d been like for him when he first moved in with Tina and Newt. Not the way he'd been straight away, but when he’d been living there a few months, after he’d learned pain was never going to be a consequence and before he’d stopped flinching at loud noises.

Modesty glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I want to celebrate Halloween this year,” she said, her jaw jutting.

Fuck, it was Halloween already. One year since—

Well. Enough of that.

He nodded instead. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m gonna dress up as a witch for starters,” she growled, and Credence burst out laughing.

“What should I go as?”

“Dunno. Someone old?”

“Oh, my God, I’m not old!”

“You’re nearly a quarter of a century.”

“What? I’m twenty three, Goddammit.”

“Exactly. Which is nearly a quarter of a hundred. And you’ll be twenty four in a week.” She tapped her chin. “You could go as Saturn.”

“The planet?”

“No, duh. The God of Time.”

He shook his head and pretended to be unamused.

***

“I don’t see why I have to come to dinner with your stupid friends. Why can’t I just go and meet my friends now?”

“Your friends aren’t meeting for ages,” said Credence as calmly as he could through gritted teeth.

“I could still stay here rather than be bored to death.”

Credence was saved by a knock on the door. “Hey, Chastity, come in. You want a drink?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Modesty grumbled. “Is this some sort of fucked up family reunion?”

“Yup,” said Credence. “Ignore her, Chas. Hey, your costume looks great.”

“She’s wearing a t-shirt with a skeleton on it, that’s not a costume.”

“I don’t really do Halloween…”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re Ma’s golden girl.”

“Modesty!”

“I don’t know why you ever left, you had it so good there.”

“I didn’t—“

“Must have felt so powerful being her favourite when me and Credence were the scapegoats.”

“Enough!” yelled Credence, fury burning under his skin. “That’s enough! Do you even know who you sound like right now? You fucking sound like her, you fucking bully!”

All the air was sucked out of the room as Modesty’s eyes dropped open and her lower lip began to wobble. Credence blinked and tried to suck the words back into his mouth, but she ran from the room and slammed the door before he could solve it.

Chastity was sniffling quietly behind him, her shoulders shaking and her face turned away as she tried to hide her tears. “I’m OK,” she said as he put an arm round her. “I’m fine, its…it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he sighed. “She had no right to say that to you.” And I had no right to say that to her.

“It’s fine, Cree. She’s traumatised.”

“That’s no excuse. I mean, yeah, that’s the reason why she said it, but she doesn’t get to hurt people just because she’s hurting.”

Chastity turned into his chest, her hands still up over her face. Credence’s arms dwarfed her hunched figure and he kissed the top of his sister’s head.

“I never felt…I never liked it, Cree, I swear.”

“What?”

“I never…being the favourite…I know I was the golden child, but I never wanted to be, I promise.”

“Oh, Chastity, I know.”

“I hated it. _I hated it_. I wanted so badly to be brave and protect both of you, I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t.”

Her sobs were louder and shook her whole body as she clenched her fists in his shirt. Credence stroked her short hair and hushed her, and just held her until she’d calmed a little.

“You were only a kid, Chas. We all were. None of us should have had to deal with her.”

They stood there a while longer until Chastity pulled back with a sniff and a smile, glancing up at him through wet eyelashes. “I better go sort my face out.”

“I better go check on Modesty,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to come?”

He shook his head. “I’m the one who yelled at her.”

She smiled at him and he waited until she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. He sighed, and straightened his back before knocking on Modesty’s door. “Can I come in?”

“Why bother asking?” she sniffled. “You’re going to anyway.”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he promised.

She was quiet for a few long minutes, and Credence sighed, putting his hand on the door as he turned to leave. 

“OK,” she said, very quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pushed the door open. She was sitting on the corner of her bed, her knees pulled up and her chin resting on her long black skirt. He sat by her feet and leaned forward, wiping the smudged mascara away with both thumbs. “Sorry I said you were like Ma,” he said.

Modesty’s face crumpled again and tears trickled down over his hands. “I am though, aren’t I? I’m so mean, I’m just so angry all the time. What if…” her voice broke and her breath shuddered. “What if whatever was wrong with her is wrong with me, too?”

Credence pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her hair as she shook with sobs. “Then we’ll get treatment for you too,” he whispered fiercely. “But you’re not the same person, Modesty. You’re angry and afraid, but you’re not her.”

“I’m never gonna have kids,” she sobbed. “I can’t do that to another person.”

“That’s your choice,” he said. “But you’re not her. You’re not gonna turn into her. Ma hurt us because of her illness, she thought there were demons inside us, not because she was angry.” He held her face and made eye contact through her tears. “You are not her.”

At last she nodded, her face scrunched up in grief, and pressed back to his chest. After a while Chastity came into the roman pressed herself to Modesty’s back, and Credence opened his arms to hold both of his sisters close, and safe.

***

The house was silent when he came back in from Tina and Newt’s. Chastity had wished him goodnight at the kerbside, and Modesty had gone to her sleepover with a waxy smile and a serious assurance that she was OK. Credence flopped onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling, trying to stop, or even just delay the negative maelstrom pressing down on him from above.

At least it had been good to get together with his family. All of his family, the only people who counted. Scamanders and Goldsteins and Kowalskis and people-who-used-to-be-Barebones. The others had picked up on the exhaustion, the almost vibration surrounding the three siblings, and enfolded them in warmth and love, and Credence felt treacherous tears curling down his temple and mixing in his hair just thinking about it. 

But now he was alone, and there was no reason for him to pretend that this wasn’t all just too fucking much for him to deal with. He wasn’t mature enough to raise a teenager, he wasn’t mentally healthy enough to be responsible for Modesty’s mental health, he wasn’t good enough to be a replacement parent figure for anyone, let alone someone he’d already failed once. He’d had Tina and Newt as his surrogate parents, two impossibly good people, and poor Modesty had him.

As the dark cloud sank lower, invading every pore of his body with its sneering belittlement he rolled onto his side, into a foetal position and sank into self-pity. Last year it had seemed like the right thing to do, taking Modesty in. He’d felt powerful - scared, but like he was capable of making up for the mistakes of his past. But of course, he’d been showing off for Percival Graves, hadn’t he?

And the final layer of misery drenched him as he remembered waking up wrapped around the man the morning after Halloween. He’d been happy, gleefully, impossibly happy. It had made him believe he could do anything because he’d held Percival Graves and been kissed by him and lov—

He dug his fingers into his hair and pulled until he whimpered. It was stupid to even think of him. He wasn’t worth it, all he’d wanted was sex, and when he hadn’t got it from Credence he’d just fallen into bed with the next warm body he could find. Everything he’d told Credence had been a lie.

 _But if you’d just had sex with him he wouldn’t have had to find it somewhere else,_ whispered the voice in his head. Credence snarled aloud and punched the pillows. _Think about what you could have now if you’d just let him fuck you. You could have someone to look after you. You could have found a way to keep him if you’d just done it that one time you didn’t want to._

That voice. It was his least favourite of all the voices in his head, the one who dropped statements like that into his ear, made him think it he should have ignored his own body for the sake of someone else. Made him question, for even an instant, whether a person who could only be held with sex on demand was worth his time and love. 

“That’s enough out of you,” he said aloud, ignoring how mad it made him seem. He was alone, he could be mad if he wanted to. “I’m not listening to you any more.”

 _Maybe_ , he thought. _Maybe this time I’ll believe myself._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus returns, two years after Credence last saw the Deathly Hallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on AO3 for a whole year ^_^ it's my AO3 birthday yay lol! I would invite you to come and say hi over on Tumblr at GoldFromStraw, but some mofo just hacked me and has been spamming people in my name, so you might want to avoid me until I can find them and kick their hacking ass :'(
> 
> Pffft. As if I have the computer knowledge to do any such thing!

“Modesty, can you get the door?”

No answer.

“Moddy!”

Credence sighed and pulled the soapy gloves off. Modesty was spinning a pen around her thumb and bobbing her head to the music coming out of her headphones. Credence pulled one away from her ear. “Turn it down, you’ll screw your hearing.” She stuck her tongue out, but turned the volume down.

Credence pulled the door open and froze.

It had been two years since he’d seen Albus Dumbledore. The blonde man stood on the doorstep, one hand in his pocket, and the other pulling at the hair on the back of his neck. “Hi, Credence.”

Credence just opened and shut his mouth.

“Uh, could we talk, please?”

“Umm, my sister’s here,” he said stupidly, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Can I take you out for coffee sometime, then? Please?”

Credence picked at his lower lip. He wanted nothing to do with any of the Hallows, but then Albus had never hurt him. He was his friend. Modesty walked up beside him, headphones round her neck. “Cree, I’m fourteen, I’m not a baby. Go on, you idiot.”

“You sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “I walk to school and back by myself every damn day, I think I can handle being in my own flat for a couple of hours.”

Albus smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Albus, by the way.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know.” She looked up at Credence, then back at Albus and crossed her arms. “Hey, do me a favour, don’t break him this time, yeah?”

“Modesty!” Credence hissed. “It wasn’t Albus’ fault.”

“No, it’s fair,” Albus said, his head bowed. “I wasn’t exactly blameless - please, let me explain?”

Credence frowned slightly. Albus looked desperate. How had he not realised Credence never blamed him? He felt a pang of guilt. “Sure,” he said. “We can go to Kowalski’s, it’s just down the block, if you’re free now?”

Modesty was already lifting her headphones. “I’ll come down in an hour or so.” She nodded to Albus, more a warning or a dismissal than anything approaching good manners.

“Sorry about Modesty,” said Credence as he and Albus walked down the stairs and out into the early autumn sunshine.

Albus smiled again. He had the sort of face that looked like it was always smiling, until he turned and beamed at you for real, eyes twinkling and crinkling at the corners. And yet, in a strange way, his smiles had an edge of sadness his pleasant resting face never did. “She must be very protective of you after you took her in such tragic circumstances,” he said.

Credence snorted. “Sure, after the first eighteen months of wanting nothing to do with me. So. Graves told you then?” He gritted his teeth over the man’s name, but no longer felt the urge to scream or cry. Two years was enough time to grow out of raging fury and hurt into a low-boil disdain.

Albus shook his head. “Only that you’d taken her in, not why. And then we got the email from the other Mr Scamander, saying you wouldn’t be able to tour with us any more for personal reasons.” He flicked an anxious glance up to Credence, who pretended to ignore it as he pulled the door open to Kowalski’s.

Jacob’s face lit up when he saw Credence, and his little girl ran up to him with her arms out. “Hey, princess,” Credence grinned, picking her up and wiping flour off her nose. “Have you been helping your daddy today?” 

“Yup,” she said, nodding. “I made bread in the shape of a niffler.”

“A niffler, huh?”

She nodded again. “It’s like a cross between a platypus and an echidna and it steals shiny things.”

“Hey, Esther, leave Uncle Credence alone,” Jacob yelled over the milk steamer. “You’ll get him all covered in flour. C’mon, you’ve got fondant flowers to make.”

She kissed Credence and skipped behind the counter, returning to a little stool where Jacob had laid out fondant icing offcuts like play doh for her to mould into magical creatures.

“She spends too much time with Newt,” Jacob grinned fondly. “What kind of six year old knows what an echidna is?”

“An Australian one, perhaps,” suggested Albus, and Jacob chuckled.

They settled down in a window booth, next to a giant blue and white urn Queenie had found in a jumble sale. Credence flicked it absently out of habit, sending a low hum through the shop. Once Tina and Newt had taken him in he’d spent every afternoon in this shop, and the place radiated family and love more so than even his own home. He relaxed back in a beam of sunlight that streamed through the plate glass windows and wrapped his hands around his cup of tea. 

“Heard from any of the others?” he asked Albus, who was fiddling with his mug. Here, surrounded with safety and warmth and love, he could ask about Gellert and Percival and not feel the coils of humiliation quite so fiercely.

Albus ran his hand through his hair. “Not for months,” he said. “I guess you heard we broke up?”

Credence nodded. It has been all over the entertainment news, the Deathly Hallows had been glam-rock icons for almost two decades. “What happened?” He asked. “If you don’t mind—“

“No, no, not at all. It’s…it’s actually part of why I came to see you. Well, sort of. The starting point, you could say—“

“Albus,” he grinned. “Do you want to just tell the story, maybe?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat and fiddled some more. “I, uh, I got a call from my brother Aberforth, back in England. My…my little sister took a turn for the worse back in January.”

Credence squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is she OK?”

His smile never dimmed, but when he glanced up at Credence and squeezed back, there was a depth of grief in his blue eyes. He shook his head. “She passed away at the end of August.”

“Oh, Albus, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, old friend,” he said. He picked up his coffee and drank deeply. “This pumpkin spice latte is delicious.” His voice barely trembled. “You Americans are so good at celebrating Halloween, it’s an entire cultural experience for you, isn’t it? I know some people who look forward to it more than Christmas, and—“

He pushed himself out of his seat and round to Albus. He took the drink out of his hands and wrapped both arms around him. It was a moment before Albus relaxed, but he stayed still until his face turned into Credence’s shoulder and his hands clutched at his arm. His sobs were barely audible, just quiet gulps and a slight juddering along his spine as Credence rubbed his back.

At last he pulled back, and turned his face away to wipe it. When he looked back up his smile was intact, and Credence thought it might be the saddest thing he had ever seen.

“You’re too kind, Credence,” he said. “You wouldn’t be here if you knew what I’ve done to you.”

“What are you - Albus, you’ve just lost your sister, of course I’m going to want to comfort you.”

“I’m not a good person.”

“You’re the best person I know!”

He sighed and rested his forehead on one hand. “Hallows broke up in May. Five months after my brother called me home. I chose Gellert over my little sister for months, and by the time I got my priorities straight, Ariana couldn’t even remember my name. It serves me right.”

“Albus…that’s not true. It’s not your fault. You made a mistake—“

“And it cost me a last conversation with my sister. I chose a man who never had a single kind word, over a girl who never had a cruel thought in her head.”

Credence shifted to embrace Albus again, but he held up both hands to ward him off. “That’s not all,” he said. “I have a confession to make, and I won’t take any more comfort from you when I know you’re going to regret giving it.” 

He took a deep breath and stared into his coffee again as Credence sat back, frowning. “Back when Percival spent the night at your place,” he started, and Credence unconsciously clenched his fists and jaw. “Gellert heart our phone conversation the day after. He asked what we’d been talking about, and I told him. I thought he’d be happy for the two of you.”

Credence felt ice creep into his veins.

“He…he said it was just a joke.”

“What did he do, Albus?”

“He sent you an old photo of Percival and a guy he dated a few years ago.”

He couldn’t hear any more over the howling tornado of anger and disbelief and regret trapped inside his head. Albus was still talking, but none of it mattered, because Gellert had screwed with his head, and he’d fallen for it.

“What took you so long?”

Albus froze mid sentence. “I…Credence, I’m not a good person.”

“No,” he said. “Don’t give me that shit. You knew it wasn’t funny. And if you didn’t at first, then you knew as soon as I quit. You knew as soon as I didn’t return Percival’s calls and cut off all contact with you guys, and what. The fuck. Albus?” He covered his eyes and gulped air, trying to fill his uncooperative lungs. “Why?”

Albus closed his eyes, and the smile was entirely gone now. “I was a coward,” he whispered. “You know how Gellert could convince people of anything, but me in particular. I’m not using it as an excuse because I’m disgusted with myself, but back then I wanted to believe in him. He said…he said if it ended that easy then it wasn’t going to last—“

“Bullshit,” Credence snapped, his voice still low. “That’s complete bullshit and you know it.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Yeah, I do. I did. I’m not proud, Credence, and I’m not looking for forgiveness.”

“Then why are you here?”

His jaw muscles moved under his skin. “For Percival. Because neither of you did anything wrong, but you were the one who refused to talk to him—“

“And whose fault is that?” he demanded, anger rising like bile and bringing guilt and self-loathing with it.

“I’m not blaming you, Credence, of course you didn’t want to talk! I’m saying, the first step to fixing this is through you. Because if I went and told him, he still wouldn’t be able to get hold of you to talk.”

Credence covered his face with both hands, fingers digging into his hair and pulling. “How do you think I’m meant to contact him? Fuck, Albus…fuck, and he knows none of this?”

Albus shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

“You know he must have thought I was just using him or something? Jesus, how am I even meant to approach him?”

“I can—“

“No, no, you really can’t. You really, really need to keep out of this. Fuck. I’ve…look, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Albus stood up with him, hand buried in the hair at the back of his head again. “I really am sorry, Credence.”

He deflated slightly. “I know, Albus. Christ. I just…I have to come to terms with the fact I owe Percival an apology. After I just spent two years hating him.”

Albus winced. “It’s not your fault.”

“Percival doesn’t know that,” he said, holding Albus’ gaze for a moment before turning his back on him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of Percival Graves...
> 
> May be triggery for gaslighting, although the characters affected are shown or discussed breaking out of their cycles of abuse, so that might mitigate it?

Credence spent the first three days after Albus’ visit pacing around his living room, or his office, or the kitchen watched by Modesty and her raised fucking eyebrow. How was he supposed to even find Percival? He’d tried his phone number, but the old one no longer existed, and since Hallows had broken up it was like he’d disappeared.

Eventually his frustration settled into intermittent flares of excruciating embarrassment at the memory of every interaction he’d ever had with the man. He was able to function for a few minutes before he had to put his head down on the desk and groan or pull his hair out. There was a little part of him that was nudging him, telling him not to get his hopes up, that Percival Graves would always be the one who got away. He’d never get his chance again.

And then, a few weeks later, Newt knocked on his office door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, dumping a pile of proofs off the chair and onto the floor. “You’re the boss, boss.”

He did his awkward eye flickering thing and picked up a rubiks cube to fiddle with. Credence turned back to his computer. Newt was always more at ease if he didn’t have to make eye contact. He remembered worrying about him when he was still a teenager, wondering if his aversion to eye contact stemmed from the same sort of place as Credence’s bowed head and hunched shoulders. It had taken him months to draw up the courage to ask, and Newt had burst out in hysterical giggles and apologies, and explained that he’d just always been like that.

“Percival Graves is back in New York,” Newt blurted, and Credence’s fingers froze on the keyboard.

Newt looked up at him through his fringe. “He’s joined MACUSA.”

“That metal band with Seraphina Piquery?”

Newt nodded. “He sent me an email. He was extremely polite, as it happens. Said he wanted us to do some new studio shots for the publicity, but he said, and I quote, he understands entirely if we want to refuse.”

“What did you say?”

Newt smiled, freckles ripping into dimples on his cheeks. “I don’t know yet, I’m checking with my best human photographer first.”

Credence giggled, hysteria and possibility bubbling in a panicked swirl under his skin. “You make it sound like your pets take the rest of your photos.”

“I’ll have you know Dougal’s a wizard with composition.”

Credence bent over with undignified snorts, laughing way more than was warranted.

“So…do you want to see him again?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah…I have to. I owe him an apology, just…do you think I should be doing this while I’m meant to be taking his photos?”

Newt considered for a moment while Credence tried to quiet the screaming maelstrom of anxiety that was trying to tear holes in his skin. “Why don’t we book Percival in for the last session of the day,” suggested Newt. “That way you can take all the time you like and you won’t be cutting into anyone else’s session.”

“That could work.”

He nodded and flicked through the calendar on his phone. “How’s Friday?”

He glanced at his own organiser and laughed dryly. “Halloween?”

“Oh. Yes. So it is. Is that OK?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Kinda poetic, I guess.”

***

On the plus side, he only had four days to stress out about the shoot. The whole ‘seeing Percival again’ thing, on the other hand, was so large that it transcended stress and came out the other side. Four days had been plenty enough time for him to vibrate almost completely out of his skin.

And then Percival walked in, and all the air disappeared from Credence’s lungs, and for a moment he was fifteen again and terrified of everything, before he could snarl and snatch at the pieces of himself and stand tall again.

Percival’s eyes had flown wide and his jaw dropped when he saw Credence. “Hi, Percival,” he said, tucking a long curl behind his ear.

“Credence,” he breathed, then blinked several times and cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, is this OK? I didn’t think it would be you. I mean, I can come another time, I don’t want to make it awkward for you—“

“Percival, no, it’s fine. I actually requested this.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Please sit?”

He did so, dark blue jeans creaking against the leather sofa. Credence sat on the other side, one knee bent up on the seat and his body turned to face him properly. Percival’s hands were pressed together between his knees like he was afraid of touching anything. Or making sure Credence knew he wasn’t going to touch anything.

Credence took a deep breath. “I saw Albus a month or so ago,” he began.

“Look, Credence, first I just have to say I owe you an apology. I knew I was crossing a line, and—“

“No, no, please,” he begged. “Oh God, please don’t apologise, you’ll just…I feel ashamed as it is.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Credence, nothing. I took advantage of you.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Credence groaned. “You really didn’t. You did the opposite, you stopped as soon as you noticed something was off and - fuck. OK. Just…” He took a deep breath and got his thoughts in order. Percival just sat quietly and frowned at him.

“We were played,” he said. “Both of us. I saw Albus, he said Gellert fucked both of us over.”

Percival glared at him for a few seconds, then closed his eyes and shook his head. “I guess I’m not actually surprised,” he grunted. “But how?”

“After you left my flat,” Credence said, now unable to look at him, “I got a message from Gellert. A picture of you in bed with someone else. The, uh, the caption said something like I was obviously sexually unsatisfying.”

“What?” Percival’s voice was a bass growl.

“I’m sorry, Percival, I shouldn’t—“

“I didn’t,” he snapped. “I wasn’t with anyone after you, not for fucking _months_. Over a year, Credence, I swear—“

“I know,” he wailed. “I know now, and I’m so, so sorry I didn’t have more faith in you, I just…I felt like such an idiot - such a _tease_ for turning you down. I thought of course you’d have to find someone else. I told myself it was understandable, but I just…I couldn’t, I _couldn’t_ go back there. And if I’d just been a little bit braver, or, or trusted you a bit more, we wouldn’t have spent two fucking years being angry and—“

He sobbed his next words into Percival’s shoulder as the man wrapped his arms around him, hushing and rocking like he’d done himself to Modesty when she woke screaming in those first few months. 

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, leaning back and rubbing the wet patch he’d left on Percival’s shirt.

Percival cupped his cheeks and wiped the tears off with his thumbs. He smiled sweetly and said “I’m going to fucking murder Grindelwald.”

Credence burst out laughing and sank back against the sofa. “Slowly and painfully?”

“No, the bastard would find some way of fucking with my head just before he died. So quickly and from a distance.”

“He really was a manipulative bastard.”

“You have no idea,” Percival growled. “Albus got the worst of it. Jesus, the way he treated him.”

“I can’t feel too sorry for Albus,” said Credence, his eyes narrowing. “All it would have taken was one word from him—“

“And Gellert would have known where it came from” he said softly. “He would have denied it back then, but Albus was scared of him. And scared of losing him.”

Credence snorted. “Come on, Gellert didn’t smack him about.”

Percival scrunched his face a little. “No, he was very rarely violent. But you of all people know there’s more to it than that.”

His back straightened and he could feel Tina and Modesty’s borrowed defiance flash in his eyes. “If a partner ever treated me like that I’d be out of there. How could he let Gellert make him feel so worthless?”

Percival opened and shut his mouth a few times, obviously thinking his words through very carefully. At last he took Credence’s hand and said “did you ever make excuses for your mother’s actions?”

His jaw dropped and shame flooded his system, because while it wasn’t the same, the situation was transferable. He slumped as he remembered how he’d internalised everything Ma said to him until that last time. How he’d blamed himself for every belt lash and prayed and prayed for forgiveness as the blood soaked his sheets. And no, he still couldn’t see what Albus must have been thinking when he let Gellert’s stupid prank stand for two fucking years, but maybe, maybe he could see how he’d got there.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, burying his face in both hands. “I’m such a hypocrite.”

Percival put his arm around his shoulders. “Nah, you’re just looking at things a little differently now.”

“Fuck, I was so mean to him, and his little sister just died, and—“

“Ariana died?” He sighed, his breath warm through the curls on Credence’s temple. “Shit. I knew she was bad. That’s why the band broke up, Gellert wouldn’t let him go to her. It was fucking tearing him apart.”

“What happened?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “I tried to get involved, tell Gellert he was being unreasonable. At first Albus was pissed at me, said it was none of my business. But then Gellert said something - it sounded innocuous to me, just like every other sentence that’s ever come out of his mouth. Something patronising and putting him down. Oh! I know, he said I sounded like Aberforth. Called him a little goat-fucker.”

“Pretty standard from Gellert.”

“Exactly, but Albus just turned round and _punched_ him. Full in the face, broke his nose. I’ve never seen Gellert so fucking terrified in his life!” He grinned. “It was beautiful.”

Credence laughed and leaned his head into the side of Percival’s neck. “Go Albus.”

“How’s Modesty?” Percival asked, fingers starting to comb through his hair. 

“Good,” he sighed, relaxing into his touch. “Tina’s sister Queen’s a kickass lawyer, she got Ma into an institution, and proved I could take care of Modesty. My other sister, Chastity, comes over regularly, too. It’s hard, but Mod’s in therapy and she’s screaming at me a lot less now. And she doesn’t flinch when I yell back at her, I think she prefers it. I dunno, she’s always been very different to me, she seems to seek out conflict.”

“Maybe it makes her feel braver. Or in control, because she gets to choose when people are yelling at her.”

“How did you get so wise?”

“I always have been,” he replied primly. “Why do you think I kept my mouth shut around Gellert Grindelwald so much?”

Credence laughed, then sighed as the self-recrimination hit him again. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you.”

He shrugged. “It’s understandable. That was the evidence you had at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort to contact you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked. “It must have seemed really sudden.”

“I texted you after we got the email from Newt.”

Credence winced. “Ah. I smashed my phone up. Not my best moment.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything though, would it? Anyway, I sort of came to the conclusion that I’d been coming on too strong the night before. Especially when you froze up.”

“I don’t even know what was wrong with me then,” he groaned, pressing his face furiously into Percival’s collarbone so he couldn’t see the blush.

“Hey, no, don’t say that.” Percival tilted his face up, a crooked finger under his chin. “You don’t have to have a reason. Not wanting something _is_ the reason.”

“But I did want it.”

“Some part of you didn’t.”

Credence pursed his lips and considered his serious brown eyes for a second, then swung his leg over Percival’s thighs so he was straddling him on the couch. “That part’s pretty damn on board right now,” he murmured, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the, ahem, actual plot...the next chapter will just be pure smut!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just pure, shameless sex, no plot whatsoever, so if you don't like that sort of thing, you're not missing out on anything by not reading this ^_^ If you do like that sort of thing, I hope you enjoy it!

Percival’s lips were soft against his own, and his hands came up to hold his hips, sliding him firmly down to meet his body. He dragged his fingertips through the short hair at the nape of Percival’s neck and up, into the longer strands that he could pull to tilt his head backwards. Percival’s eyes fell shut as Credence kissed along his jaw and down the tendons of his neck, teeth slipping between his lips and teasing the skin, drawing out soft gasps with each nip. The silence of the late afternoon seemed to cradle the two of them as they moved against each other, the fabric of their clothes rustling, the wet sounds of their kisses swallowed up by the air around them.

Credence pulled back with a smile and pressed his forehead against Percival’s. “Come on. Let’s get these photos taken.”

“And then?”

“And then…you could come back to my place?”

Percival smirked and ran his thumb under the hem of Credence’s shirt, calluses catching on the smooth skin of his hip. “And then?”

He laughed. “And then I’ll make you some coffee and tell you about my day while we sit fully clothed on the sofa, dumbass, what do you think?”

His smile softened. “Not even kidding, that sounds pretty great.”

Warmth flared up through Credence’s chest. “Maybe…tomorrow?”

Percival smiled like the sun coming up. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“And the day after.” He kissed him on the lips.

“And the one after that.” Percival tightened his grip on Credence’s hips and captured his mouth again for a moment.

He pulled back with a laugh. “Really, we need to take these photos.”

Percival gave a put-upon sigh. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

Being sensible was very disappointing, he thought, as he stood up from Percival’s warm lap and found his camera. Percival stood and stretched, the royal blue button down creeping up and exposing a strip of tanned skin, a line of black curls running down behind the button of his jeans. Credence’s mouth watered as he raised the camera and pressed the button, barely checking the viewfinder. 

Percival’s lip curled up in a smirk and he sauntered over to a bunch of amps the props guys had set out for the shoot. Credence snapped more photos as he ran his fingers along the strings of the guitar, his profile just visible over his shoulder. His eyebrow raised slightly and Credence fought to control the slight tremor in his hands as he zoomed in on Percival’s face just as one black eyebrow raised and his eye stared right down the lens.

He turned and leaned against the amps, his hip cocked and chin up as he flicked one button open after another, exposing his collarbones. “You gonna take some pictures there?”

Credence startled slightly as he realised he’d been staring over the top of his camera, and lifted it to his face to cover the blush. Percival sank to the floor, leaning back over the amps, one arm draped carelessly over his knee. They’d hit golden hour, the light pouring through the high window bathed him in rich, warm light, making him look mythological, like something out of a fairy tale.

If fairy tale creatures were prone to undressing themselves as some form of temptation. Credence licked his lips as Percival’s finger traced the open V of his shirt and found the next button, every new inch of skin glowing and magic.  
“Stop,” he murmured. Percival’s fingers paused on his buttons and he raised an eyebrow at Credence, a slight pout on his lips. Credence snapped another photograph even as he chuckled, then picked up his favourite vintage 35mm instead. He walked over to him and ran his fingers through his hair, breaking up whatever style was left and adding to the fucked out look. He used his left hand, running the backs of his fingers down Percival’s cheekbones, neck, ribs, down to the buttons, his camera clicking in his right hand. He was glad he’d loaded black and white film. He hadn’t used the darkroom in ages, and he wanted to watch the range of shadow and light appear on this one photo of his fingers just brushing the tip of Percival’s nipple, the shirt now draped open and goosebumps speckling his skin. Percival sucked in a little breath as he turned his hand, the backs of his cold fingernails flicking over the tight nub of darkened skin. Credence turned his lens onto the swell of his Adams apple as he tipped his head up.

Credence took a step back. “Take off your shirt,” he said, his voice soft and sure. Percival looked up at him, the slightest smile curling his cheeks, but there was nothing mocking in it at all. He stood and turned his back as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, and Credence bit his lip as the muscles moved under his skin. His shutter snapped again and again as the shapes of his body changed, until Percival stood with his shoulders rounded, his hands working in front of him to slide the sleeves from his wrists. The fabric fell to the floor with an intimate sound, followed by the solid pop of his jeans button, his zip. He slipped his fingers under his waistband, his hands guiding down the trousers and boxers both at the same time. Credence moved closer and slipped his hand beside Percival’s, cupping his ass as they worked his pants off together exposing defined thighs with wiry hair speckling the skin.

When he turned to face him his cock stood proud from his body, his eyes almost completely black with arousal. He gazed at Credence as he moved around him, running his fingertips over the expanse of brown skin. He photographed the hollow at the side of his hips, the dimples above his ass, the little dip at the junction of his collarbones and the shape that his face made when he tilted it away from his shoulders, his eyes fluttered shut and his lips falling open as Credence explored his body.

He turned slightly, with the barest hint of a smirk and knelt at Credence’s feet, flicking the buttons of his pants and pulling the zip down slowly. Credence’s breath shuddered as his thumb followed the shape of his hard cock through the fabric, and the smirk grew as he pulled the waistband of his underwear out and down, releasing the damp tip to the cooler air. He slipped the fingers of both hands into his briefs and pulled down until his full length was exposed, then looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Are you still working?”

Credence’s hand clenched around his camera automatically and Percival grinned as he flicked his eyes to it once. Then he wrapped his hand around Credence’s shaft and licked the tip of his cock, pulling a gasp from his throat like a punch. His other hand came around his ass and held him still, wrapping his tongue around the head, licking the slit and pressing up against the heavy vein with his thumb. Credence’s hands were shaking as he lifted his viewfinder to his eye, and he could barely see straight as he pressed the button again and again as Percival wrapped his lips around him and took him into his mouth, inch by inch.

“Fuck, Percival,” he moaned, and Percival hummed in response, the vibrations sending static shocks throughout his abdomen. He stretched out his hand to put his camera safe on the nearest amp. It rattled as he set it down, his body shaking with the glorious tension growing between his legs, coiling out around his body. “Fuck…fuck, Percival, I’m gonna…” he pushed his shoulders until his cock slipped out of his mouth, and he blinked up at him, all dark eyes and wet, red lips. “I don’t want it to be over yet,” he breathed.

“Good,” he grinned, standing and stripping Credence’s t-shirt off. “Because I was hoping you’d come inside me.”

Credence couldn’t stop the groan escaping as he kissed Percival, tasting his own precome on his talented tongue. “Have you got anything?”

“Maybe in my bag,” he muttered. “Shit, I haven’t got enough blood in my brain to remember.”

Credence laughed and pulled his jeans, socks and pants off while Percival crouched down by his holdall. “We’d better lock the door, too.”

He was turning the latch when warm hands snaked around his waist and up his chest, brushing over his nipples. “Found it,” he said in a ridiculous sing-song voice. 

Credence turned in his grasp and kissed him, gasping as their cocks brushed together. The feel of Percival’s skin against his own was some kind of heaven, and he rolled his hips. “Come on,” whispered Percival. “I’ve wanted to deflower that couch since I saw you sitting on it.” He pulled Credence along by his wrists, still kissing him even as they tripped over each other’s feet. He handed him a tube, then dropped to his knees on the cushions, his spine arched and his arms resting on the back of the couch. His head rested on his folded forearms and he looked up at Credence from hooded eyes, and it nearly made him pass out with how utterly fucking sexy he looked at every moment.

He stepped close behind Percival’s legs, kissing down his spine and running the palms of his hands up his ribs. He wanted to touch every inch of his body, feel the rope of his tendons, the change in texture as his fingers skated over a mole. He ran his hands from the backs of his knees up the soft skin of his inner thighs, listening to Percival’s breathing shudder as he stroked the wiry hairs. He could see a spot of precome growing as he mouthed at the jut of his hips, and with one finger stroked the curve of his balls. Percival pressed his head against his arms and let out an involuntary sound, a moan or a gasp, and Credence did it again just to watch his cock twitch.

He drew his fingers back and coated them with the lube, then stroked backwards from his balls, along the crease of his perineum to the hole behind that fluttered under his fingers as he circled it. He laid kisses and small bites along one luscious cheek, his slick fingers rubbing around his asshole. Just as he pressed in with the tip of one finger, he ran the finger of his other hand up the length of Percival’s cock. With every pulse in and out, he stroked with featherlight touches, his own arousal growing with every moan as he pressed further into the tight heat. 

“Another,” he said, his body rocking back on Credence’s hand. “More, Credence,” he moaned, and Credence moved so that one knee rested inside his on the couch cushion and nibbled his ear. He pulled his finger out and joined it with a second, just as he wrapped his finger and thumb of the other hand around his cock and stroked firmly. Percival tipped his head back, pressing his cheekbone against Credence’s nose and closing his eyes. Credence pushed deeper inside him, searching, searching, until he cried out. “Fuck, Credence, that’s it, right there.”

“More?” he asked, and if he’d been capable of rational thought he’d have been surprised at how deep his own voice sounded. Percival just nodded, leaning back to kiss him, open mouthed and sloppy as he pressed a third finger in.

“Enough,” he gasped within moments. “I’m ready, come on.”

Credence bit his shoulder as he pulled out, and Percival shuddered. He leaned his forehead on Percival’s shoulder, looking down at himself as he spread more lube on his own cock, even that small amount of friction almost unbearably good. He guided the head to Percival’s ass and pressed, pressed in beyond the ring of muscle. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe against Percival’s shoulder, sliding his hand down Percival’s arm to link their fingers together and move in painfully slow into his body. “So tight,” he whispered. “Fuck, Percival, you’re so tight, so perfect.”

Percival moaned and tipped his head back, kissing him and rocking ever so slightly, pressing back and back until Credence felt his balls flush against Percival’s ass. They knelt together, breathing in each other’s air. Percival suddenly clenched his muscles and Credence gave a shuddering moan. “Oh, God, I’m not going to last long enough to do everything I want to do with you.”

“Good thing we’ve got tomorrow,” he said breathlessly, and did it again.

Credence couldn’t wait any longer. He started to move, rocking out and back into his body, fingernails pressing half moons into the skin over Percival’s ribs. “Come on, Credence,” Percival gasped. “Harder, oh God, fuck me harder, please.”

He pressed his head to the back of Percival’s neck and watched his cock slide in and out of Percival’s ass, one hand around his chest, the other sliding down to clutch his hip, guiding him forward and back as he fucked in. A trail of sweat ran down his own chest as he watched the place where their bodies joined, his blood burning through his body, a hurricane of ecstasy boiling up through him from the warm friction sliding up and down his cock. He could feel his body vibrating as it built in his bones, and he pulled Percival’s chest closer, up and away from the back of the sofa. “Oh fuck, Credence, fuck, right there, oh God, harder!” he cried, and Credence snapped his hips as Percival’s fingers reached up and tangled in his hair, moaning with every thrust. He could see Percival’s cock, deep red and dripping with precome, every push into his body striking his prostate, making him arch back, bite his lip and whine. Credence could feel his orgasm right there under his skin, and he held himself on the edge. He watched one hand cross over Percival’s chest, hold him tight and upright so he could fuck him hard, keep hitting that spot each time, while his other hand crept down and wrapped around his cock. He watched as Percival’s entire body clenched once, twice, and come spurted from his cock, splattering the couch, just before his own vision exploded into stars and he came harder than he’d ever come before, his cock clutched in Percival’s fluttering muscles.

Somehow they ended up slumped on the couch, almost horizontal. Credence ran lazy kisses up Percival’s bicep, and Percival tangled his fingers clumsily in Credence’s long hair. “So how many of those photos do you think we can use?”

“Mmm,” said Credence sleepily. “All of them.”

“Even those last ones?”

Credence shrugged. “I didn’t say we’d use them all for work.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I'm assuming the law is pretty much the same as in the UK, that a child is considered not a runaway when they leave home at 16? If not I'm sorry, I'll try to change the ages if I can...very very lazy author...


End file.
